


Doing His Best

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is competing in a race</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doing His Best

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday prompt 'heat'

Doing His Best

by Bluewolf

"Competitors in the first heat of the four hundred metre race please take your places at the starting line."

Jim was aware of a feeling of 'This isn't fair!' and knew that he'd feel the same even if he'd been in the first heat instead of the last. The ones in the first heat would have longer to rest before the final; the winners of the last heat would have almost no recovery time at all. And he knew his father wouldn't take that into consideration if he didn't win when it came to the final.

He sat watching the first heat, trying desperately to relax. His own urge to win was strong, but he knew that Sally was right when she said he could only do his best.  His father's expectations - that he had to win because he was an Ellison - were too extreme, especially when he was handicapped by starting off more tired than six of the other runners.

How could he maximize his chances of winning?

He had to be placed in his heat, but if he came second, or even third (because the first three in each heat went on to the final) he could explain that to his father as tactical running, encouraging the winners of the other heats to consider him a lesser opponent.

Yes, he decided; if he went all out in his heat, aiming to win it, he would have less to give in the final.

The second heat was called, and as the winners of it were announced, he realized that the selection of runners in each heat was biased. The winners of both heats were good, but their competition was not particularly strong. Teachers weren't supposed to have favorites, but the winners of both heats were widely believed to be class favorites.

Jim's heat was called; as he lined up he glanced at his fellow runners, and knew just how badly he was handicapped. He realized it was totally composed of strong runners. So much for running a tactical race; to stand any chance of being in the final he would have to go flat out. And then he - and the other two finalists from it - would be tired when it came to the final, giving the physical education teacher's two favorites the best chance of being placed first and second.

It was the fastest heat of the three, and Jim, forced to run flat out, considered himself lucky to come in second. Stan Baker, who had taken the first place, really was a fast runner.

He found a seat and again tried to relax, but after two or three minutes he stood again and began doing stretching exercises, trying to formulate a plan for running the final.

It was such a short race... it would be easier to run a longer race tactically, coast along for the first two thirds of it then start pushing for the front. But with the four hundred metre race taking less than a minute...

The final was called, and he took his place.

As the nine finalists set off, Jim forced himself to forget the abilities of the other eight runners and simply concentrated on running. He was lucky in his placing - with a staggered start, he was near the back, and had the incentive to pass several of the other runners. He forced himself on... all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as he could.

He was totally unaware of passing the finishing line, so intent was he on just running. He had gone at least another fifty yards before he became aware of a voice calling, "Jim! Jim! Stop!" as someone on a cycle pulled in front of him. "You won, Jim! You can stop running."

He stumbled to a halt and looked at his friend Harry, who had come second in the cycle race a little earlier.

"What?"

"You won, Jim. You know, I've never seen you so focused. You shot past the finish line as if it wasn't there, and that was when I grabbed my bike and chased after you."

"Thanks." Jim gave a half smile. "I really was concentrating, you know. It struck me that those of us who were in the third heat wouldn't have as much resting time before the final, so when it came to it I just... well, ran."

Harry urged him to turn and walk back to the finish line. "That's the problem with a one-day event. With a two-day event the finals could all be on the second day."

As they reached the finish line, one of the teachers came over to them - not, he registered, the PE teacher, who was probably annoyed that his favorites had been beaten. "Well done, Jim. You not only won, you set up a new school record for the distance."

"Oh," Jim said. "I was just... just concentrating on running - hoping to win, but knowing that at least one of the others was faster... "

"Yes, in his heat Stan Baker equalled the previous record," the teacher said. "You beat it by a second and a half."

Jim's jaw dropped. "I... what?"

"You're at least three seconds slower than the world record - well, that's hardly surprising - but you've shattered the school record. Well done!"

"Thanks... "

But all Jim was really aware of was that his father wouldn't say 'well done'. All he was likely to say was that Jim should have beaten the previous record by more that a second and a half.

Because to William Ellison, nothing was ever 'well done'. Whatever his sons accomplished, nothing was ever good enough. He still expected more.

And sometimes neither of them had anything more to give.


End file.
